Thus Spoke Zarathustra
by Tiny Octopus
Summary: She bore witness to the death of Light Yagami, and the rise of the god of judgment from his ashes. Also on AO3. Contains discussion of religion and possible blasphemy that may offend some readers.
1. Theothanatology

"God is dead," recited the young man with unrealized dreams of utopia. "God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms."

It was a cool November afternoon when I first noticed the man who would become God in a high school philosophy class, ironically echoing the words of Nietzsche. I sat to his left and became enraptured by his peerless skill in philosophical argument and eloquent readings of foreign thinkers, old and new. Within the hour, he had established himself in my mind as a genius, and I wondered why I hadn't noticed him before, why no one else had noticed him before. Of course, he had been noticed, but he was not one to expose every part of himself. Even the handful of girls who each claimed to own a piece of his heart knew little about him.

To say that I had never noticed him was not completely accurate, either. I had noticed the odd string of kanji—night, god, moon—every time I'd checked my test ranking, and seen it just ahead of mine without fail. Light Yagami, I often heard, the genius. But those within the top ten rankings see everyone above them as threats. Every compliment is given grudgingly, every smile is painfully forced, and there is no cooperation. And so, when you are at the top, you have no one. I didn't pity him even once, as I fit into the second-place ranking, and had only one threat. Try as I might, I could never overcome his test scores. It's fair to say that I resented him at first.

But that was before I saw him in action. I remember Light as silent at almost all times , offering nothing unless called upon. This had less to do with arrogance and more to do with boredom—he was too intelligent to be interested in most classes. This only changed in philosophy class, when Light came alive, something like enthusiasm shining in his eyes. No matter the position he was assigned, he could develop an excellent argument and defend it relentlessly. In just a single class period, I started to see the enemy ranked above me as a person rather than just a name.

"How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?" he went on that day, eyes forward as he looked straight through our teacher and into the next world, "What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives; who will wipe this blood off of us?"

Perhaps, then, it was curiosity that led me to him, a desire to peer into the mystery of Light Yagami, the highest ranking student at Daikoku Private Academy for as long as he'd been there. Though I could never achieve perfection and the number one ranking as long as he was there, I saw no reason to resent him. Rather, I saw all the more reason to learn from him, as Crito learned from Socrates, because I recognized potential where I saw it. Light Yagami had explosive potential of the world-changing variety, and I wanted to be there to see it happen.

"What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?"

It is from the place that I would eventually reach, at the side of a brilliant mind poised for opportunity, that I would witness the makings of utopia and the birth and death of God.

But I didn't know that in November. I only knew that Light was a genius, and that he knew it, too.

"Hey, you don't have cram school until like seven, right?" Akemi asked, leaning over my desk. Eri and Rin were right behind her, checking their phones. "Come to the karaoke bar with us! We never hang out anymore."

"I know," I said with an apologetic smile, "But I'm really busy right now. I have to use all of my time wisely."

"Yeah, so use it at the karaoke bar. Relaxing is totally a wise use of time." I hesitated to respond a second too long and she frowned. "Fine, whatever. We can go without you," she said, and turned on her heel as the other two followed. They would later come to accuse me of thinking I was too good for them, but this is not true. I will admit that, in the pursuit of knowledge, I may have lost sight of some things, but I have never thought myself above anyone. If they knew what really happened, they would be glad to be rid of me.

"I don't know how you stand them," came the voice that read Kant and Russell, and my head shot up in surprise. Light Yagami stood close by, his bag slung over his shoulder, looking pointedly at the gossiping trio at the door.

"They mean well," I said, gathering my books, "But I can't afford to go out with them anymore. I want to go to To-Oh, after all."

Something like recognition flashed in his eye. "Oh, yeah? I'm aiming to go there, too." There was just a hint of a smile on his lips. "Philosophy test is next week. Want to study together?"

That was the moment that I was no longer just a classmate, but a potential equal. I wasn't about to let the invitation just pass me by. "That would be great."

I still cannot decide if I regret not accepting Akemi's invitation.


	2. Proslogion

Light Yagami's room was tidy, the space organized for maximum efficiency without any personal touches. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, shutting the door behind us before adding, "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, that's alright. I don't want to impose," I told him, setting my bag down by his desk and pulling up a spare office chair. I had been welcomed into the Yagami household in equal parts shock and eagerness, as Light's mother and sister jumped to all the wrong conclusions, and he let them. "Your family is very welcoming."

"They probably think you're my girlfriend." He shrugged and came to sit on the other side of the desk, setting the textbook between us and thumbing through it for the current chapter. "That would make them happy. You're the next-highest ranking student, after all.

Second only to you, I thought with a hint of bitterness, but did my best to swallow it and only nodded. When Light invited me over, I decided I would make the best of my perpetual status as "second" and learn from my betters, though it still stung to be reminded of it. "You're not going to correct them?"

Light looked up from the textbook, fingers frozen between two sections, and his eyes met mine. I had never noticed how intense his gaze was. Being under his scrutiny was almost frightening. "I see no reason to disappoint them," he said, "You and I are far too busy for things like relationships, anyway. Although playing at one might be interesting."

"Playing at one?" I repeated, and he smiled. Even Light Yagami, I would come to understand, needed outlets with which to act like a mischievous, and exceedingly clever, child. This would become my role.

"You know, pretending, just to see how people will react. Unless you've never been in a real relationship and aren't sure how to even pretend?"

I turned the page in the textbook, carefully avoiding his hands. "How about we look at some philosophy instead?" I said uneasily, unwilling to play any games or divulge more information about myself than necessary. As much as I admired Light, I had only begun to do so for a single day, and if there was anything we had in common, it was our desire to keep our inner selves completely private. Light respected my wish for space and relented, though I knew he hadn't given up the idea.

"In class now, we're discussing arguments for the existence of the Abrahamic God," he said, sliding easily from devious student to thoughtful philosopher, producing a pen and a notebook from his bag. "I'll defend the argument, but first we should agree on a list of acceptable properties. What are qualities you would ascribe to God?"

"Omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent." I added after a moment of thought. "And benevolent."

"Of course," Light agreed, starting a list on the left side of the paper, "Would you accept transcendence, as in transcending humans?"

"I suppose."

"I would also like to propose "existent." Any objections?"

I couldn't help but return his mischievous smile. "You're going to have to argue that one, Yagami. I won't just give it to you."

"Very well," he said, and then he changed. The same light that shone from him in class appeared again, his entire being coming alive in anticipation. Light did not simply enjoy philosophical debate; he reveled in it. Were I a theist at the time, I may have compared his charisma and enthusiasm to a Messiah come to deliver the word of God. "Here is my argument," he began, turning to face me, "First, our concept of God is that of the greatest conceivable being. There are none greater that can be conceived. Secondly, if there was not a greatest conceivable being, we could conceive of one that did exist, and it would be even greater. After all, which is greater-that which exists, or that which does not? But by virtue of my first point, God is the greatest conceivable being, and therefore exists."

Ontological. I hadn't expected him to use that approach. In class discussions, I personally evaluated it as one of the weaker arguments, but now I was hardly capable of a graceful reply.

"There are plenty of people capable of thinking of God as non-existent," I said when I remembered that I was supposed to contribute.

"But they are not truly thinking of God as non-existent. What they're thinking of is the signifier rather than the signified." He gestured towards himself. "Is Light who and what I am, or is it simply a name that refers to me? Clearly, it's what signifies me rather than who is being signified. The same can be said of God." I should have listened with a philosophical ear rather than an admiring one, waiting for something else to use against his argument, but there was something about Light when he debated that was enrapturing and I couldn't escape its pull. I had once thought myself to be his opponent, but instead became a disciple of Anselm, hanging on every word.

"You earlier denied me the use of "existence" as a predicate of God," he continued, "Allow me to argue for it. We can agree that the conception of God is a being containing every sort of perfection. As a being that exists is greater than one that does not, existence itself is a perfection. As God possesses all perfections, including existence, God must necessarily exist. Existence is attributed to God the same way that unmarried is attributed to any bachelor. Not only is this true, but part of the very definition of the thing, and they are therefore inseparable."

"But you can't use existing as a property of anything," I said, searching for anything to make this a debate again and regain my footing. A good student questions their superiors, I told myself.

"And why not?"

I glanced at the bowl of fruit on the far edge of the desk and leaned over to pick out an apple. "Take this apple, for example," I said, "If I were to assign properties to this apple, I could say that it's red, or ripe, or sweet. But to say it exists is pointless. It tells you nothing about the apple."

"I disagree," he said immediately, "It does tell you something. My counterexample would be two sets of one hundred pennies, one existing and one hypothetical. The hypothetical dollar does not contain a single cent more than the real one. What, then, is the difference between them, other than which one is existing?"

"You can only spend the existing ones," I said dryly.

"So it does make a difference."

I walked right into it. I was horrified at my inability to defend myself any better, and Light took advantage of my silence to further his point.

"We have a paper due next week. Let's say I told Ogata-sensei that I wrote a spectacular paper with a flawless support of the cosmological argument. Of course, it's purely hypothetical. Is the lack of "being" predicate unnecessary? Do you believe this would give me an identical grade as one received from an existing paper?"

I wasn't going to give up. I set the apple down in the basket again. "Okay. I'll concede that existence can be used as a predicate. But I still have objections to your argument."

He only smiled. "Such as?" It took me a moment longer than it should have to collect my thoughts.

"How can we ascribe any properties to a thing that has never been seen?" I asked. "Of course I can assign properties to any number of people and places, since I've seen them before. But when it comes to something like God, whom we agreed is transcendent, even if these qualities have been agreed upon, how can we be sure they're accurate?" Again, Light didn't even hesitate, as though he'd already thought of every possible objection and come up with an appropriate counter.

"Tell me, what does a unicorn look like?"

I saw the hole before I stepped into it, but had no choice to keep walking. "It's a horse with a horn," I said grudgingly.

"But have you ever seen one before? A real one, rather than an artist's depiction?" he pressed, and then, without waiting, "Of course not, but the word "unicorn" calls to mind these properties. You have seen a horse before, as well as a horn. They're known properties that can be given to things that are unknown. Similarly, we have seen imperfect version of God's qualities. Imperfect power, imperfect knowledge, imperfect goodness; we have witnessed these things, and can therefore assign them to something we have not yet seen."

I didn't realize I had been silent for a full minute until Light checked his watch and I apologized. "You're very good," I said.

"Are you admitting defeat?"

"I was impressed by your performance in class, but debating with you one-on-one is a different experience altogether. I was a bit overwhelmed."

He seemed surprised. "Did I make you nervous? I'm sorry about that." I was equally surprised that he wasn't aware of the powerful effect he had on other people when he spoke, although in hindsight, he was likely being modest. Light was more than charismatic-his presence was frighteningly powerful, especially when he was trying to convince you of something.

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let it bother me."

"It's no problem," he said, "Do you think you wouldn't be caught off-guard a second time?"

I searched his expression for any hint of teasing, but there wasn't any there. He looked like he'd had fun. "I suppose I would know what to expect."

"Then how about we debate again? We could both use the practice." There was just a hint of a smile on his face, the slightest upturn of the corners of his mouth, but it wasn't like the one I'd seen in class. This one was unguarded, genuine.

I returned the favor with one of my own. "Then next time, I'll definitely do better."

I decided that I really did admire Light Yagami, even if he was occupying the space that I wanted to be at in the rankings and even if he was supposed to be my enemy. In the wake of our pitiful first debate, I was euphoric at the prospect of returning to prove myself some other time and packed my book bag with a smile. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow in class, then," I said, but he stopped me before I stood.

"Why don't we wrap up with a quick discussion?"

I paused in the middle of moving to stand up, checked the clock on his desk, and settled back into my chair. "If you'd like," I said, and was rewarded with an approving smile.

"On the subject of our debate," he said, returning to the open page of his notebook, where he'd been making notes out of his textbook, "What properties would you give to an ideal god?"

I didn't have to think about it for more than a moment. "Human." His pencil paused in the middle of the page and he looked at me for clarification.

"Xenophanes mocked Greek religion for its anthropomorphization of the Gods, but I think that, as humans, a human God would be ideal to worship. The closer a God is to us, the better they understand us. Don't you think a perfect, unreachable God leaves something to be desired?"

He nodded. "That's an interesting viewpoint." I couldn't tell what he was thinking by those words.

"Are you a theist, Yagami?" I couldn't help but ask, and he was silent for a moment.

"If anything," he said, "I consider myself agnostic. What about you? You have some very interesting views on God."

"Atheist, actually. But philosophically, I'm open to any good argument."

"You and I have something in common, then," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking a break from writing. "Why do you think so many people believe in the Abrahamic God? Those are some of the most widespread religions in the world, after all."

"I think it relies on the promise of justice." There was a shift then, and Light looked at me like with more interest than the rest of the afternoon put together. I may not have been shining with charisma, but what I was saying was of interest. "There's no question that unjust acts happen all the time. The good are sometimes punished without reason, while the evil can live long, comfortable lives. As Kant says, this problem can only be solved in eternity. Belief in God promises justice for a person's acts after death. If you are righteous, you will eventually be rewarded, and those who have wronged you will be punished." I held Light's gaze. "You know, Yagami...I think I'll have to amend my earlier statement. I think that the ideal God would deliver justice not after death, but during a person's life. They would punish those who do wrong and reward those who are virtuous before we die." I remembered myself and looked down at my feet with an uneasy laugh. "Does that sound childish?"

"Not at all," he said gently, reaching out to gently touch my shoulder. His eyes were soft, but within them was burning passion, another side of him separate from his reserved student self and his analytical philosopher self. This new self, which I only glimpsed briefly that day, was dreaming of something dangerous. "I completely agree with you."

We both had cram school not long after, so he walked me back to the train station and we said our goodbyes. I was ecstatic, walking on air after leaving the company of a great mind, somebody whom I had so much in common with. I never would have guessed that I would have been befriended by the person with the ranking above mine, someone I was supposed to resent, but I was glad it had happened. I stayed up late, read through the next chapter in my textbook until I'd practically memorized each passage, and dreamt of the coming days.

The ones he had fooled best were those closest to him, after all.


	3. Appeal to Probability

The killings began in December.

I was too absorbed in my schoolwork to notice a pattern, but it was the story on headlines and website banners and news tickers and everyone's tongues. "Incarcerated spree killer dies suddenly," and "Kidnapper suffers from fatal heart attack," on and on, everyday, for weeks. The whispers began on the internet over BBS and other social media that somebody was targeting criminals, and from there, a legend grew. The prospect of a mysterious killer whom could not be found should have frightened people, but when hidden behind the artificial mask of anonymity, they began to speak.

"Someone is out of there," they'd say, "someone is punishing the wicked and rewarding the good with a world that is just that much better." The parallels to the Abrahamic god were inevitable, and the tone of the supporters went from admiration to unadulterated reverence. The forums became alters, the evening news became their gospel, and this new deity was given the name of an approximation of the word "killer." With each murder, his flock increased in size, and he was ascribed St. Anselm's ontological properties as his name was praised.

A man-made god rose; Kira, god of judgment, worshiped by the persecuted.

But, as an atheist, I was not immediately convinced of his sanctity.

* * *

In the first days of winter, life went on as normal with the exception of one new development: Light Yagami and I were dating.

Not really, of course, but everyone seemed to think so. I remained blissfully unaware of the whispers and jealous glances until my friends pointed them out to me one afternoon.

"You and Yagami spend a lot of time together," Akemi said, and I completely missed how expectant she sounded.

"We've been studying together," I told her, "He's incredible at debate."

"Debate," she echoed, one eyebrow raised. "Right. You're going out with him, aren't you?"

She misread my silent shock as an admission of guilt and her eyes widened further. "No way!" Rin gasped behind her, "You really are? I mean, Akemi told us that she thought you were, but..."

"So that's what you've been up to lately."

I shook my head, hoping I didn't look guilty. "No, it's not like that," I said, but she was convinced. It was too late.

"You should have just told us!" she said with a wink, "We thought you were avoiding us, but I noticed you've been going home with Yagami lately. You don't have to keep it a secret, you know. Or maybe you were worried someone would be jealous? He does have a lot of admirers." She grinned.

"Admirers?" I said incredulously, "Jealous?"

"Have you looked around?" Emi said in a hushed tone, looking pointedly over her shoulder. "I'm happy for you! He's your first boyfriend, right? I get it now."

"You don't understand," I began, but before I could get a word in, I noticed Light standing close by with a faint smile. Akemi giggled and nudged me with a shoulder.

"Go on," she teased, "I won't tell anyone, but you've gotta text me later."

I looked to Light hoping for something, anything, but he only offered a stunning smile and stood a little closer. "Ready to go?" he asked, and I was suddenly aware of all of the eyes on me.

* * *

"You really haven't had a boyfriend before," Light said as we waited on the train together. "I wasn't sure if you were being honest." I shrugged, and he leaned in further. "Does the idea of dating me really bother you that much?"

"It's not like that," I said, "It's the whole "pretending" thing that makes me uncomfortable, okay? I don't know why. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he said, giving me space and looking apologetic. "I didn't realize it made you uncomfortable. I'll tell my parents the truth, if you'd like." He paused. "Between you and me, you're the only person from school I can really stand being around. If you came to think of me as something more than a friend, I'd be fine with that."

I was stunned by the sudden admission but there was no teasing in Light's eyes. He seemed sincere, and that was what had surprised me the most. "Now isn't a good time," I said, sounding unsure. Although he nodded in agreement, he wasn't smiling anymore. Looking out the window, Light stared out into the distance, somewhere beyond the train and the people and everything that made up the mundane world.

Even then, I knew that those eyes were capable of seeing things that I could not.

* * *

Without being consciously aware of it, I became a regular at the Yagami household. The coming weeks with Light were largely spent in his room, debating religion and knowledge and the nature of reality, and I continued to lose each one. I resigned to the fact that he was academically superior, though I still tried, hoping that I could someday surpass him, and he indulged these efforts with a bit of teasing.

"I'll give you something if you win," he'd say, "Whatever you'd like," and I would just laugh, prompting him to ask, "Do you know what you want?"

"Not at all," I'd say, "And I won't even think about it until after I've won."

We would spend an hour studying independently, enjoying the other's company in Light's room, working side by side at his desk. Light's mother would call us down for dinner-and I would join them, ever since receiving her invitation several nights prior-and we would socialize with his mother and sister and occasionally his father, should he come home early. Soichirou Yagami was just as fond of me as the rest of the family, and it was after meeting him that I just couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth about the nature of my relationship with Light. Light, too, clearly had no intention of saying anything, playing at embarrassment or at least a thinly-veiled secret whenever he refused to give a definitive answer to their not-so-discreet prodding.

One evening, Light and I were collaborating for a project when I caught the name "Kira" from the TV in his room. We both stopped what we were doing to watch for a moment, listening to yet another story about the mysterious death of a serial rapist. "Kira again," Light noted.

"People say he's a god." My eyes never left the screen. "But if he were, don't you think he wouldn't wait until after the fifth woman was raped to do something?"

Light was silent. My face flushed with embarrassment as I realized what I'd said, and I was just about to insist that I wasn't supporting a killer or anything when he spoke. "Isn't that a bit like the problem of evil?"

The problem of evil.

It was either my best or worst debate topic due to my inability to separate my personal feelings from the argument. "Evil exists," I said, "We can both agree on that. And if there is evil, how can I reconcile its coexistence with a benevolent, omnipotent, omniscient god? You can only have one. If god truly possessed the three qualities we gave to him before, then there would be no reason for evil to exist."

Like a switch had been flipped, Light abandoned his assignment and turned to me with the passion of a philosopher in his eyes. "Perhaps you should clarify your definition of evil," he offered.

I didn't have to think too long about it. "Evil is suffering," I began, "It's all of the misfortunes suffered by people, big or small, from disasters, war, and illness to simple unhappiness. According to Mackie, anyway." He agreed to the definition.

"It seems logical that we should begin with god," Light said, but I shook my head. "Limiting the previously agreed-upon properties does not solve the problem of evil, it merely avoids it," I said, feeling a surge of confidence when Light frowned but merely nodded. I had previously noticed that he spoke with his hands, often making powerful gestures while in debate. Even before I knew him very well, I had never found it distracting; rather, it served to highlight his enthusiasm and certainty. When Light spoke without movement, he was trying to think of an escape. But when he spoke with fervent motion, it was the listener who should be cautioned not to back themselves into a corner. Unlike our previous debates, he sat then leaning over his desk with his hand over his mouth, deep in thought. I was on the offensive this time.

"Furthermore, it treads dangerously close to pantheism and deism. The Abrahamic god proposed in those is considered by some to no longer be "god" in the traditional sense," I continued, "It's also contradictory. "Partial omnipotence" is an absurd notion. We previously agreed that these properties are perfect, and cannot, by their very definition, be limited. I ask again, how do we reconcile the existence of our perfect god with the existence of evil?"

Given an opportunity to speak, Light didn't waste a moment. "Couldn't it be said that evil is not a product of god? Consider if the Universe was devoid of evil until we came into existence. In that case, it was not god who made evil, but us. It's a product of our free will."

I shook my head. "That only begs the question; why would an all-seeing creator bestow free will upon its creations knowing they would misuse it so badly? We can't say god couldn't have seen it coming, since He's supposed to be omniscient. Why not create us perfectly, or perhaps give us free will, yet a disposition to always do the right thing?"

"I remember you recently telling me that the appeal of the Abrahamic god is the promise of justice in the afterlife," Light countered, "In that case, evil could be considered a test of character. Justice, the afterlife, and everything it entails, must be earned."

"But why?" I asked, "Why the need for a test in the first place? A benevolent god wouldn't want to condemn anyone, and an omniscient one wouldn't need to test someone to see that they would make a mistake. And the reward doesn't make sense, either. How can an infinite reward or punishment be granted based on a finite period of time?" Light opened his mouth but I cut him off. "Don't you dare say He works in mysterious ways. That doesn't count as an argument. And if we return to the definition of evil, illness and disaster are included. Those things aren't necessarily caused by human action, and therefore aren't necessarily a product of free will."

"Don't you think those evils may be necessary?" Light said. "Suppose our world had no evil whatsoever, and it never had. Would we be capable of recognizing good when we saw it? Would we even be able to appreciate it?"

The image of one of the rapist's victims appeared on the television and I glanced at it out of the corner of my eye. She had been young, not much older than me. "I would counter by asking if so much evil is really necessary. That woman was tortured, raped and killed. Could she not have been merely harassed for the rest of us to appreciate our good fortune?"

Light backed down from that one. I tried to keep my smile to myself. "If not for appreciation, then perhaps for the enrichment of other lives," he suggested, "Tragedy and disaster bring people together. Crimes, such as that one, elicit a powerful response from law enforcement and the community to work together."

I paused. "That doesn't seem like something a benevolent god would do. I suppose life will be enriched for those who survive, but in disasters, many still die. If that's the case, then people who have done nothing wrong are being sacrificed in order to grant some sort of benefit to those who survive them. If no one had died at all and if there was simply property damage, then people would still come together to rebuild their homes." I paused to allow Light a chance to speak, but he was still thinking. "I see nothing that justifies the extent of the suffering. Not free will, or some convoluted test of character, or positive reinforcement. If we reduce god's qualities to fit, He is no longer the god we previously considered. And if free will, tests of faith and a method to enforce appreciation cannot account for the evil present, then what are we left with?"

A knock on Light's bedroom door startled us both. Sachiko Yagami poked her head in and smiled at us. "Sorry to bother you," she said, "But it's almost seven. Don't you have cram school?"

I glanced at the clock and my heart almost stopped. I hadn't noticed how much time had gone by since I came over. By the time I had my things together, Light was on his feet at the door. "I'll walk you to the station," he offered, trying not to laugh at my panicked expression.

* * *

"I'll be honest with you," Light said later, "You won that one."

"I doubt it," I scoffed, "I could see it in your eyes. You were about to come up with something clever." We shared a laugh. "Honestly, though, I think the deistic approach makes the most sense. If I were a theist of some sort, it's what I would choose."

"Really? I think deism is ridiculous." We reached the train station, but I didn't go inside just yet, turning to face Light.

"Why's that?"

"Why would anyone turn on the machine of the universe and then walk away?"

I shrugged. "Maybe He got bored. Or maybe He just works in mysterious ways."

"Come on, that's not fair. You told me I couldn't say that earlier."

I smiled playfully. "What's reasonable to you, then, if you find deism to be so strange?"

"If I had to pick, theothanatology."

"I should have guessed," I said.

"God is dead, and we have killed him," Light recited, just like the first day I'd noticed him. A shiver ran down my spine. "That's the greatest evil right there, isn't it?"

"I can think of greater evils than patricide, honestly."

Light regarded me carefully. "Murder isn't a big enough crime for you?"

"There are worse things. And murder isn't always wrong."

"When is it right, then?" he asked. His tone was a challenging one. I almost indulged him, but I remembered myself. It was probably a debate that could wait a few weeks, maybe until after Kira was caught, I'd figured.

"We'll have another debate on our hands if we're not careful," I told him, "But doesn't it make you think? If the first evil was the murder of god, yet no evil existed before god's death, then where did it come from?"

"A paradox," Light said with a smile.

"This is why deism makes the most sense to me out of those," I said, "We are all gods, Yagami, capable of creating and destroying, so if I learned that god was real, but flawed, I could believe it. I can accept that there's evil because we are the only gods there are, and there's nothing perfect about us."

With those as our parting words, we went our separate ways. After cram school, I found myself excitedly wondering what I could reasonably ask Light for as a token of my first victory, and hoped I would win many more.

In my elated state, I didn't even notice when the news reported another suspected rapist went into sudden cardiac arrest after just one girl went missing.


	4. Tabula Rasa

**This chapter is dedicated to FireWolfAbianvi and Onesmartcookie78. I was going to put off updating for another week, but I didn't have the heart to after reading your comments. Thank you so much!**

**And one quick note:**

**Compensated or subsidized dating is the exchange of gifts or money between a man and a typically younger woman for dates or sexual favors. Though sexual activity is not always a part of the deal, it can easily become part of it due to the nature of the activity. It's illegal for minors to go on subsidized dates, and both parties can be arrested if they're discovered.**

**I promise it's relevant.**

* * *

I have always been an empiricist.

That is to say, I believed that the sum of knowledge and understanding can be attributed to experience and the five senses. I opposed the notion of innate knowledge-the assumption that we are born possessing fundamental or universal truths-in favor of seeing the mind as a blank slate on which experience imprints itself. Inductive reasoning is one of the axioms of mankind; we believe that the sun will rise tomorrow because that is what it has always done. We believe that objects released from our hands will fall to the ground, because we have previously observed them to do so. It is with the power of induction that we reason our way through everyday life, each experience building upon our previous knowledge and inscribing upon the tablet of the mind.

It was my inductive reasoning that governed my interactions with my mother, however infrequent they may have been due to her schedule, which consisted of a job at the closest convenience store, coming home to change, and heading out to bars until the dimly-lit hours of the early morning. During the week, I was fortunate, as we rarely encountered one another, though every so often, she would suddenly appear in the afternoon and announce she had the day off, and we would be made to occupy the same space until one of us could stand it no longer and relinquished the apartment to the other.

A particular Saturday in December went this way. I was reviewing for an upcoming test at the table in the living room when I heard the key turn in the lock and tensed on reflex. I entertained the idea of relocating to my room, but was offended at the notion of moving just because she was present and stayed where I was.

"Hey," she greeted neutrally, eyeing me a moment, and I returned the gesture. My mother was a tall woman with long hair, and she was proud of her youthful face. It could be reasoned that many men found her beautiful, as she had no shortage of them. "How was school?"

She did not ask because she cared. My inductive reasoning reminded me of how many parent-teach conferences she had attended-it was a number I could count on one hand-and how many times she'd failed to produce money for school uniforms or books or even food-that number was significantly higher. "Fine," I said.

As she passed me on her way to the kitchen, I smelled men's cologne mingling with her perfume and felt sick to my stomach. She started boiling water. "Isn't there a fee due soon?" she wondered aloud, "For books or something?"

"That was two weeks ago."

"Ah," she said.

Slowly, like I might have tried to bite her, she came back to the table and left some large bills next to my textbook. She stood waiting, looking like she expected me to thank her two weeks later for money that was not hers. Inductive reasoning told me this. Her money was gone, I knew, because that was the way it had always been, paychecks disappearing on the same day they were given, into department stores and bars, so much so that I began to doubt their existence. The money on the table was from a man, one whom she'd slept with the previous night and then, that morning, mentioned her daughter to. "She's a good girl," she'd say sadly, "But she doesn't have a father, and I can only do so much. I'm trying to put her through school, you know. How will I make sure we both eat this week?" and he was fooled, he believed she made a mistake and that she learned from it, and he gave her the money thinking she'd take it to the grocery store and go home with food and she would sing his praises to her daughter.

I almost pitied the anonymous men who had paid for my education until high school. I knew none of their names or faces, but I pitied them all the same.

"I already took care of it," I told her, pushing the bills across the table towards her. I had previously debated taking the money anyway, but in the end, I decided I didn't want it.

At this, her eyes narrowed, and she snatched it back, calling me ungrateful, ungrateful brat, I work so hard for you so you can go to a nice school, and it's all thrown in my face. Where did you even get the money, she asks, sleeping around? I know it's not from a job, because I told you that if you're going to work, that's all you're going to do, you're not going to go to school anymore, because I know you don't have time for both. I'm just trying to help you, I'm doing the best I can. I couldn't give you a father, but that wasn't my fault. It's just me, I'm all you have, so why don't you appreciate what I'm doing for you? And where do you think you're going? You can pack your bag if you want, I won't stop you. I won't run out the door after you, because that's what you want, isn't it? No, I don't have to, because you'll come back, you'll come back because you've got nowhere else to go. You've got no one, I'm the only one who does anything for you, so go ahead and leave, and when you come back, I'll be waiting.

The door slammed behind me, and I ran, holding my school bag full of everything that mattered in my life to my chest. More than angry, I was ashamed, because every time we saw each other, every time she smelled like cologne and gave me money that wasn't hers, I thought for a minute that we were more alike than I wanted to admit. Where had I gotten the money, if not from her? Of course she would ask, and I wouldn't answer. She was wrong, but I couldn't say that, because she was awfully close.

* * *

My mother was absent-minded, and when her make up started going missing when I started high school, she believed that she was simply misplacing it and bought more. I remember standing in the bathroom of the train station, carefully applying lipstick that was a brighter shade of red than I was used to seeing in even clothing and being disgusted by my reflection. But this was what girls who did this wore, I'd heard from circles of gossipers in the hallways at school, it was bright and lively and even though they looked mature, they still looked young. That was the whole point, of course; looking young.

I had first heard about compensated dating from a couple of classmates who were spreading rumors about another girl. At the time, I could only think of my mother and feel revulsion for anyone who would do such a thing for money. Perhaps it was my upbringing that desensitized me, or perhaps I simply became desperate after a time, but upon starting high school, I no longer wanted to rely on my mother. My desire for freedom and the pursuit of my goals led to the rationalization that I would never go as far as she did, I would never become the person she was, and that became my mantra; _I am not like her_.

I told myself that repeatedly as I changed into the dress I'd brought from home and tied up my hair, putting my day clothes into my school bag and checking my face once more in the mirror. I'm not like her, I thought, this is different.

Daigo was a salary man and hopeless romantic, and he had a wife and young daughter. He never mentioned them over dinner, of course, but I knew about them because a photo had fallen out of his wallet as he was paying me at the end of a date. He'd smiled sheepishly and tucked it back inside with something like guilt in his eyes, and I'd wanted to tell him to never see me again, tell him that someday, his wife will notice that half of his salary never seems to come home, and that his daughter will be teased at school, her classmates taunting her because her father is unfaithful and pathetic and so hopeless that he goes on compensated dates with high school girls and takes the out to eat and tells them he loves them, and she will never forgive him for that. But without Daigo, I won't be able to pay for school. I told myself that it would only be for a little longer, just until graduation, and then I'll delete his number and never see him again, and he'll either return of his wife or find some other high school girl so desperate for money that she'd resort to the gateway drug to prostitution.

If Light could see me now, I thought bitterly, staring at my hands as I wrung them under the table and the bright fabric of the dress they rested on, what would he think of me, knowing that his fellow philosopher wasn't much better than a whore?

"Are you alright?" Daigo asked from across the table, returning me to the present. I looked down at the steak on my plate-always expensive food, the kind of thing he should be eating with his family-and then up at the man himself, a worried frown on his face. How twisted was it that the man I went on subsidized dates with cared more for my emotional well-being than my own mother? That was why I kept seeing Daigo; he was safe. He didn't push for sex like I heard so many did, and I'd remained a virgin throughout our correspondence, something that was important to me to further distance myself from my mother.

I forced a smile and felt all of the makeup on my face. "Of course," I said, "Thank you so much for dinner. You're so good to me."

He beamed, and dinner resumed as normal. I swallowed my self-loathing and ate.

* * *

Half an hour later, I was 30,000 yen wealthier than I'd started and went to the train station, only to stop and wonder where I would go. I couldn't go home, and not just out of stubbornness. Previous experience told me that she would be irritable for the rest of the night, until she went out to drink and we wouldn't see each other for a week or so. I thought about sending a message to Akemi, Eri or Rin, but changed my mind quickly. Nobody could see me like this; even if I changed out of the clothes and wiped off my face, I still felt dirty and if I saw someone, I wanted to have myself together again, returning to the persona I adopted at school. I didn't know where to go, so I just got on the next train and sat down to think.

Light Yagami was on the train.

By the time I realized that it was him standing near the opposite door holding onto one of the bars for support, dressed in a hooded track suit, the doors had shut behind me and I stumbled in my high heels as the train jolted and began to move, heading towards an open seat. I knew that the makeup and dress didn't disguise me completely, especially with my school bag in my lap, and I kept my head down, staring at my feet and hoping he would be getting off soon. Unfortunately, the day continued on its course, one which had me regretting ever getting out of bed, and I heard him call my name. I didn't react, and suddenly his shoes came into view. I couldn't hide anymore.

Slowly and reluctantly, taking a shaky breath to steel myself, I looked up and met Light's eyes. He had a smile initially, but after studying my face for a minute, it disappeared. "What's wrong?" he asked, as perceptive as always, and I shook my head.

"Nothing," I said, the lie obvious to both of us. My grip on my bag tightened. "Nothing's wrong."

At the next stop, the seat next to mine became empty, and Light took it. The undeterred, solemn expression on his face told me that he had experience with people withholding information from him, and that he intended to figure out what I was hiding. "Have you started on your final paper yet?" he asked, "For philosophy?"

I nodded. "Yes," I forced myself give a verbal response in a futile attempt to lessen his suspicion. "Have you?"

"Yeah."

"What topic did you choose?" I asked, but as he opened his mouth, I shook my head, "No, never mind. I can probably guess."

He grinned at that. "Yeah, you probably could." It was quiet for a moment, the clattering of the train tracks the only sound until Light spoke up again. "I was just on my way home," he began as innocently as possible, "If you're not busy, you can come over for a bit. Besides the paper, there's also the final exam to get ready for."

I knew that going with him was exactly what I shouldn't do. Of course I didn't have to tell him anything-I didn't have to tell anyone anything-but the shame was still there, and the fear that somehow he would just _know_. I didn't know how he would figure it out, but I still worried and held onto my bag tightly and thought about how I was no better than her, whoring out my affection to whoever was willing to pay for it.

Light said my name again and I startled to attention, looking over at him. "Um." He was looking at me carefully, likely examining the makeup. Even though I was wearing the mask of another persona, I felt exposed, like he could see through it, through the lipstick and the mascara and right into the desperate and fearful person I really was.

I told myself that it was better this way. If it had to be someone, I was glad it was Light, the Socrates to my Crito. There should be no secrets between us, even if the revelation of those secrets would put distance between us.

"Okay," I said finally, and on his face was the pleased smile of the victor.

* * *

Sayu was out with her friends, Souichiro was at work, and Sachiko was preoccupied with something in the kitchen when we got to Light's, so we got to his room unhindered. I felt ridiculous, still wearing the dress from the date, though when I'd asked to change at the station, Light had smiled and told me to wait until we got to his house, a gentle way of telling me that he was still going to figure out what was going. I took a seat at his desk and stared absently at the bowl of apples in front of me. "Yagami, would you say you're more of a rationalist or an empiricist?" I asked.

He shut the door and hesitated, and I knew he was not trying to formulate a response but rather figure out why I was asking. "Generally, I favor empiricism," he answered.

"Why is that? Do you consider rationalism to be unrealistic?" He took the seat on the other side of the desk as I spoke, watching me carefully. "It can be. It seems that _a priori_ reasoning can only get us so far. We see water and observe its qualities, but without experience, how do we know that we can drown in it?" Light only listened. He didn't move or speak, just listened to me, his eyes never leaving my face. He looked like he was waiting for something. "But empiricism isn't much better. We say that the future will be like the past because that's how it's always been, even though we're only begging the question. The sun will rise tomorrow. How do I know? Because it always has before." I smiled bitterly. "We're so used to it that we don't even notice the connections we make. There is no justifiable correlation between cause and effect, just a habit of the mind to see one where there is none. Maybe the sun won't rise tomorrow. Maybe everything we know to be true today won't be tomorrow. We don't know." Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes and ran down my cheeks with a trail of mascara. I put my face in my hands. "We don't really know anything at all."

Light was so quiet that I had forgotten he was there until he said, "Do you really believe that?" I inhaled and my shoulder trembled. "Do you really think that the world is really some random, chaotic place where we can't predict anything? Do you think that if you stop drinking water, you won't necessarily die because the cause and effect aren't actually connected?"

I shook my head.

"You told me you use inductive reasoning all the time," Light said gently, "And if you use it wisely in conjunction with a pragmatic view, you'll rarely be wrong. Connecting cause and effect is the way we survive and get from one day to the next." Respecting my boundaries, he did not try to embrace me or come any closer, but he kept watching for my reaction to his words. When my sobs died down into whimpers, he did nothing more than put a hand on my shoulder. "Induction is a powerful tool, but you have to allow yourself some flexibility, otherwise when things don't go the way you expect, you won't be able to handle it."

I couldn't meet his eyes. "I don't think I'm the person you think I am," I said.

"What do you mean?" I didn't answer. "If it helps at all," he said, "I'm of the opinion that people don't really have a "core." All of the different selves we act as-at home, at school, with friends-those are all parts of us. There's no one "real" self, because they're all you, attuned to different social settings."

I wasn't sure if that made me feel better or worse. "Today, I did something I that I know was wrong," I told him, "It was even illegal. I'm a criminal, Yagami. Do you think Kira will kill me next?"

Light was stunned at my admission.

"I hope he does," I murmured, and then I began to cry again.

* * *

In the end, I told Light everything; I told him about my mother and the subsidized dates, how I hadn't gone any further than dinners and kisses goodbye but I knew it was wrong and that I shouldn't do it anymore. He listened patiently with the same expression he had when he listened to my arguments, and I felt like he was analyzing what I said for more than just the literal meaning of the words. When I finished talking, Light did something he hadn't before-he held my hands in his. "I see why you didn't want to say anything," he told me gently, "And you're right, it's not a good thing to do." I bit my lip. "But since you told me everything, I understand the situation you're in. Honestly, if I were you, I probably would have done the same thing." I hadn't expected that. "You and I are actually a lot alike. We both have high goals for the future, and we'll do anything to reach them." His eyes shone with sympathy and passion. "We won't let anything get in our way."

I swallowed and nodded.

"From now on," he continued, "You should accept whatever money your mother gives you, because it sounds like she does come up with some eventually. I think you should stop going on compensated dates, too. If you have to pay for something and you don't have any money, tell me."

"Yagami, I couldn't do that," I protested, "Your parents have you and Sayu to take care of. They don't need me to burden them."

His hands tightened around mine. "If you don't want to ask for money, that's fine," he said firmly, "But I don't want you going on those dates anymore." His tone was different, and though I didn't recognize it as such at the time, I reflected later that he sounded almost possessive.

"I won't," I promised, earning a pleased smile. I checked the clock on his desk. My mother had likely gone to a bar. "I should go."

"Alright." I was left cold and somewhat disappointed when Light released my hands. "You might want to wash your face first, though." I touched my cheek and pulled back my hand to find a black circle on my fingertip.

"Thank you," I told him as I went to use his restroom. When all of the black and red had washed down the drain, I looked up at my reflection and smiled at the face I saw.

* * *

It was almost nine when I finally returned home. I froze when I saw my mother bent over the table, but she was fast asleep, a bottle if sake drained in front of her. Under the bottle was the money she'd tried to hand me earlier with a small, hand-written and tear-stained note reading, "I'm sorry."

My inductive reasoning hadn't prepared me for that. The situation was unfamiliar; never had I returned to find her still at home, much less having left me anything resembling a note. Carefully, I moved the bottle and took the money, slipping it into my school bag. I watched her for a moment, her shoulders slightly rising and falling with each breath, and then I went to my room and thought on Light's words. Induction had failed me, I realized. It looked like my previous experiences did not help me predict this outcome.

But for the first time, being wrong brought me, however momentary, a bit of happiness.


	5. Eros

**Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but I had a big project due this week. I've already begun planning the next chapter so it shouldn't take quite as long.**

**Just a quick note: The academic year in Japan begins in April and ends in July, though seniors in high school graduate in March.**

* * *

It occurred to me, in the beginning of January about a week before University entrance exams, that Light and I had yet to come to a definitive description of our relationship. While his family and our peers had come to their own conclusions, and Light himself had said that he wouldn't be against such an arrangement, we hadn't discussed the issue since. Things were not awkward with Light-if anything, I was more comfortable with him than anyone else-but every time I came over, Sachiko would smile knowingly at us and let me know I was welcome to stay for dinner, constant reminders of what we'd been avoiding discussing. With philosophy class having ended and our high school careers almost completely behind us, it seemed as good a time as any to finally have that talk, and determine the nature of our interactions in the future.

Light must have been having similar thoughts, because on that Saturday, he called me in the morning. When I saw his number come up on the screen of my phone, I set aside my notes and took a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"

"Hey, are you doing anything today?"

I knew he already knew the answer to that question and smiled a bit. "Of course not. The exam is next Saturday."

"Do you think you could work a break into your studying schedule for a few hours today?"

I hesitated to answer. "Why?"

"I'm stepping out to get a breath of fresh air. You know the new café downtown with the outdoor seating?"

"Yes." I paused again. "Why?"

"Because I'm inviting you to join me there," he said, sounding amused.

It had only been a week earlier that I had confided in Light about the subsidized dates, but it took no time at all for our relationship to change. Perhaps it was our proximity when he took my hands into his, or the weightlessness I'd felt immediately after he knew my secret, but I'd come to admire Light for more than just his intellect. Although I enjoyed his company, sometimes-a playful light in his eyes or a teasing smile-I would become flustered, no better at communicating with him than the girls who followed him in flocks in the hallways of our high school. Worse still, I was in no way prepared for any of it, and was often frustrated with myself for stammering and blushing. In some ways, I hoped that things would return to the way they had been before I had decided that Light was handsome as well as smart.

"It's fine if you don't want to," Light said, reminding me that I was on the phone, and I hurriedly told him that I did want to. "Great. I'll meet you in an hour."

I clumsily let the phone fall somewhere around the table and scrambled to my feet to find something to wear. My mother stood in the doorway, but I didn't notice her for several minutes, pulling clothes out of my dresser and holding them against myself in the mirror. "Who was that?" she asked, and I nearly dropped the shirt in my hands, turning to face her. I considered my answer carefully.

"A friend," I said at last. She looked like she wanted to press the matter further, but her eyes softened, she smiled, and then she walked away, leaving me turning in the mirror.

* * *

The cafe that Light had in mind had opened several months earlier, just old enough that the initial hype had died down and we didn't have to fight for seating. We settled into a booth towards the back, away from prying eyes, and as we were handed our menus, our eyes met and I felt my face heat up. "Graduation is coming up," I said conversationally, "We won't have anything to study for together until school starts up again."

Light wasn't flustered in the least. "I've been thinking about that, too," he admitted, adopting a teasing tone, "Not that anyone would know the difference if we kept meeting after school. I think they expect it by now." He watched my expression carefully. "But it doesn't really matter what they expect. Do you want to keep coming over?"

"Yes," I said, "But what would we do then?" He covered his mouth with his fist like he was thinking but I could see that he was trying not to laugh. "Look, I've never been in his situation before."

"I know," he said gently, trying to reassure me that he wasn't making fun of me, "I guess I haven't, either."

I almost argued that he had until I thought about what he meant by that. Light wasn't an affectionate person. Even the girls who'd spent their weekends with him couldn't claim that anything more than hand-holding had happened. All the time we spent together, all the lingering touches to the shoulder and the little space between us when we both leaned over an open book were probably new to him, though he was good at hiding it.

"What is this, exactly?" I asked, "What are we calling this?"

"Do we have to call it anything?" Light asked. "Let's just enjoy the afternoon. Next weekend is the exam, and I'm sure neither of us will be doing anything this week other than studying."

"I am enjoying it," I insisted, "It's just...you know me."

"I do," he agreed, "I'm guessing that you're thinking about this too hard."

"If you look at the qualities of this meeting, there are some contradictions." Light looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"What _are_ the qualities of this meeting, then?" he asked, humoring me.

"Well," I said, feeling confident enough to lower the menu, "This is a casual weekend outing to a café."

"Okay."

"And there are only two of us."

"That's right."

"And..." I looked at him cautiously, "Are you going to let me pay for my order?"

He smirked. "What do you think?"

"This looks like a date, Yagami."

"Well, there you have it."

"But this can't be a date," I argued, "Because "dates" is a property belonging to couples."

"Friends can't go for a date?"

"No." I paused. "Well. The connotation is different then."

"If we're talking about properties, then you and I have been dating in all but name for a while now, haven't we?"

"I suppose I haven't thought of it that way."

Light raised a brow. "Then how have you been thinking of it?"

"Honestly? Pederasty."

I had thought of it the same way I thought of everything-in terms of philosophy. Specifically, I'd thought of Socrates in Ancient Greece and Eros. The bonds of Athenian pederasty were not necessarily sexual or romantic, but rather a rite of passage, an intellectual bond between student and teacher. Those that did pursue it in a romantic fashion did so ritualistically-the student was to resist to prove they were worth having, and the teacher was to persevere until their affections were acknowledged and returned.

"Pederasty?" Light repeated incredulously, :Not only are you female, but we're the same age."

"I didn't mean literally." Self-conscious again, I buried my face back into the menu.

Gently, Light pushed the menu down with one finger until I let it drop on the table. "No, I wasn't making fun of you," he said, "I was just surprised. That, and it's funny. You were so confident when you were describing our relationship in terms of properties and qualities."

"It's my comfort zone," I murmured.

"And that's fine," he continued, "The reason we started talking in the first place was philosophy. But if you need a different reason now, I'm sure we could make one," he said, and I tried to hold his gaze. Light said nothing for almost a solid minute, waiting for my response.

I was the first one to break eye contact, looking down at the table. Light smiled, but looked disappointed. "We're a lot alike," he said, "In intellectual pursuits, we're above and beyond our peers. But when it comes to more emotional matters, we have more trouble than most." His hand found mine over the table. "So how about this; we'll keep things the way they are now, and I'll ask you again later. Will you think about it in the meantime?"

I nodded. "Yes," I said, "I think I could do that."

* * *

We didn't stay out long-we both had the test to get ready for, after all-and after what felt like not nearly long enough, Light walked with me back to the train station. "I would wish you luck, but that would make me sound condescending, or lacking confidence in you," I said, and he laughed.

"I feel the same way." We both stood silently, waiting for the other to do something, and when nothing happened, he stepped away. "See you then."

"See you." I started towards the doors, but stopped to look back at Light once, and he gave a small wave. I smiled in return. This was unfamiliar territory for me, a place I had never been and was a bit hesitant to explore, but if Light was my erastes, then maybe I wouldn't mind going someday soon.

* * *

Exams came and went uneventfully. Although I was already confident that I would be accepted to To-Oh, I still sighed in relief when my acceptance letter came. To her credit, my mother had tried to show interest, though the significance was largely lost on her. I woke up on the morning of the entrance ceremony to find that she had already left for work.

Light was already at To-Oh when I arrived, staring up at the new student welcome banner with a faint smile. "Good morning, Yagami," I said, and he returned the greeting, turning to give me his attention. "You're giving the opening address, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but it's not just me. There was another student who had the same score I did."

I frowned. "What? Didn't you get the highest score possible?" He shrugged. The familiar twinge of disappointment at my ranking returned, but I willed it away. Things were different now that we were in college-the rankings wouldn't matter anymore.

"You know, you can call me by my first name now, if you want," he said, "We've known each other long enough, haven't we?"

I almost refused, but then thought of our talk a week earlier. I had been thinking about it, and I intended to give him an answer when he asked again. "Light, then," I said slowly, and he smiled in encouragement.

Light's address was, in fact, given alongside another student who shared the name of singer Hideki Ryuga, though had nothing in common with the teen idol. To say that this Hideki was unkempt would have been an understatement; he stuck out in the auditorium, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, shoelaces untied, dragging his feet up to the stage to stand beside Light. He spoke with an uninterested drawl and surveyed the silent audience with scrutiny. It was surreal to see the two of them speak next to each other, even more jarring to hear Light's enthusiastic speaking alongside his apathetic tone.

After the speech ended, there were slow, hesitant applause as they both made their way back to their seats. I couldn't take my eyes of off Hideki, who looked so out of place, and noticed that he had begun talking to Light as soon as they stepped away from the podium. Light didn't say a word for a long time, though Hideki said something to him that caused him to stiffen up slightly in the same way he did as when I managed to get a leg up in our debates, barely noticable to those who didn't know what to look for.

He took a moment to compose himself before replying, and the two continued quietly conversing for a few minutes. To the casual observer, Light looked little different from usual, but I could see that he was uncomfortable. I was just beginning to wonder what they were talking about when Hideki noticed me staring and our eyes met for a moment. My breath caught in my throat at the intensity of his gaze; those were not the eyes of an ordinary person. Was Hideki really a student here, I wondered. There was no question that he was brilliant; he'd gotten the same score as Light on the entrance exam. But there was something else there, some definite purpose and suspicion. I didn't know what he wanted, and I wasn't particularly interested in finding out. I looked away quickly, returning my attention to the next speaker at the podium, and though I no longer felt his eyes on me, I felt unease that must have been something like what Light was feeling.


	6. Anytus

**I think it's safe to assume that updates will come on Saturdays from now on. It's much more convenient that way.**

**I can't remember how L addresses Light in the Japanese version, though in the English dub he refers to Light by his first name while Light addresses him by his "last name." In this fanfiction, I'm having them both begin on a last-name basis.**

* * *

Towards the beginning of our school careers, Light and I didn't see as much of each other as we had hoped. This was due to our differing schedules and classes, as Light followed in his father's footsteps and pursued law while I began studying speech-language pathology. Philosophy took a back seat to my new focuses, spectra graphs and syntax, and we met only during lunch in a study room on campus.

"I'm officially moved out of my mother's," I told him, "So I can look for work now."

"What do you think you're going to do?"

"Ideally, home tutoring. My old cram school said they'd recommend me, but I'm not sure if I'll actually find any work."

"No, someone always needs a tutor," Light reassured me, "You'll be fine."

I glanced out the window at the flowering cherry blossom trees, resting my chin against my palm. "Do you ever go flower viewing?" I asked.

He stopped taking notes to look up. "No. Why?"

"I went once. It was a while ago, when I was in elementary school. Everything looks different at the start of spring."

"Is this an invitation?" Light asked, grinning.

I turned my attention back to him and couldn't help but smile shyly. "Not really. I don't actually plan on going."

"Why not? We could go together."

"You and I both know we don't have time for that."

He nodded. "Well, if you change your mind..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a certain dark-haired sloppy genius shuffling between the trees outside. "Do you know anything about the guy who gave the speech with you the other day?"

"Ryuuga, Hideki, right?" Light said, "Not really. We talked a bit after the speech, but that's all."

"Hm."

"Why?"

I shrugged as neutrally as possible.

"Just curious," I said, knowing I'd successfully dissuaded any suspicion when Light changed the subject. There was something about Hideki that put me on edge, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. Though I wasn't one to pry, I was curious as to what he and Light had discussed the previous day that made him look so worried, but it didn't seem like Light wanted to talk about it.

Light himself had undergone some noticeable changes. He'd always had this distant look in his eyes, not unfocused but ambitious for things not in his immediate grasp, and that had only intensified since starting at To-Oh. Though something else was there as well since his encounter with Hideki, and if I'd known better at the time, I would have recognized it as anxiety. I wasn't the only one that Hideki put on edge, it seemed. It wasn't really my business, but we were friends, or so I thought, and I felt that I deserved to know. But I didn't push the matter, and Light never brought it up.

* * *

As I was on my way to class the next day, I found them in the midst of a heated game of tennis.

A crowd had gathered to watch, an impressive serve followed by a lengthy exchange back and forth over the net. They were silent the entire time, focused on not only the ball but on each other. I didn't know Hideki well enough to know what he was thinking, but Light was positively burning. I couldn't tell if it was passion for the game or anger, or maybe both. When it finally came to end and Light was announced the winner, there was a round of applause and both of the panting athletes congratulated each other on a good game.

Light left with Hideki and I didn't see him later for lunch. In fact, I didn't see him again for the rest of the day. It was only the following afternoon that we met again, and Light was noticeably distracted. I would stop talking when I realized he had mentally wandered, and he would return a few moments later, apologize, and tell me to continue.

"Light," I said finally, "What's wrong?"

I was sure he would try to brush me off, but after a short pause, he sighed and looked down at the table. "My dad had a heart attack last night." I held my breath and almost regretted asking when he continued, "It was from stress and overexerting himself at work. He's fine now." I nodded and Light looked at me curiously. "You've gotten pretty good at reading me."

"Probably not as good as you think," I said, "You've just been zoning out a lot today, that's all."

"You're the only one who's noticed."

"Well, I used to debate philosophy with you. I think a person's debate performance tells a lot about them."

He smiled at that. "Speaking of which, I'm sorry we haven't gotten the chance to do that lately."

"There's nothing to apologize for. I'm sure we'll get the chance sometime soon."

Checking his watch, Light excused himself and left for his next class, leaving me thinking about our conversation. He'd seemed so surprised that I could tell when something was on his mind, though I hadn't considered it to be great feat. It was true that I'd come to know Light quite well in the time we'd spent together, but I still didn't know him as a person as well as I wanted to. I knew Light as an academic, Light in the context of philosophy or mathematics or literature, but there was still a lot I didn't know yet. I respected his desire to keep himself private, though I wondered if he was planning to show his innermost self only to someone much closer than a friend.

I then thought of Soichirou, whom Light was worried for and likely still believed that I was romantically involved with his son. Was I expected to visit him? Was my absence reflecting on me poorly? I knew that I couldn't pick a worse time to admit that Light and I were only friends with everything his family was already dealing with, though I wasn't sure if it would be proper to continue pretending we were something more.

"Is this seat taken?"

I was jarred out of my thoughts by a familiar drawl and looked up to find Hideki, dressed in the same manner as usual, looking pointedly at the empty seat across from me. I hesitated a moment too long to answer and his gaze slid to me questioningly. "No," I managed to say, still overcoming surprise and anxiety.

He nodded in acknowledgement and climbed into the chair, positioning himself so that his feet were on the edge of the cushion and he was huddled over the table. I waited a moment for him to say something, but he only stared at me, so I tried to go back to studying. "I don't believe we've spoken before," he said suddenly and I looked up again. "I'm Ryuuga, Hideki." I introduced myself, as well, and Hideki took this as evidence that I was interested in conversation. "You're a close friend of Yagami's?"

"Not close, necessarily," I said, "But we are friends. We went to the same high school."

"Hm." I didn't think that sort of answer warranted any deep thought, but he took a moment to consider what I'd told him. "I see."

"Do you," I began, meeting his eyes, "Know Light from somewhere?" There was nothing there that I could read. This was someone who kept themselves even more private than Light did.

"Not before coming here. However, we've recently begun talking and I'm hoping we can become friends." There was a short pause before the last word, so brief that I almost missed it. "He's not the easiest person to get to know."

"You think so?" I asked, "I guess he is in some ways. We had a common interest in philosophy, so that made it easy for us to talk to each other."

"Philosophy?" Hideki echoed, sounding slightly more animated.

"Yeah, it was a hobby for both of us. When we had time, we would go over arguments we were learning in class or debate."

"But you don't have time anymore?"

I shrugged. "I do, but Light's going through a hard time right now. I don't want to bother him."

Hideki hesitated only a moment before asking, "Then perhaps, in his absence, I could become your debate partner instead?"

I wasn't sure why he was offering, though I told myself I shouldn't be looking for a motive. I'd isolated myself from my high school friends with the exception of Light and now that the latter had other things to worry about, I found myself alone much of the time. It couldn't hurt to make more friends, even ones as eccentric as Hideki, so I nodded. "If you'd like. Are you interested in philosophy?"

"I suppose it's a hobby of mine, as well," he said, "Though I may be a bit out of practice."

* * *

I assumed that his comment about being "out of practice" was out of modesty, as Hideki had no trouble whatsoever keeping on the offensive despite my best efforts to keep up. He didn't smile once, and I couldn't tell if he was having fun, but I figured that if he wasn't he would have left. We began with the mind and body problem-the connection between them, should the former exist-and even my best attempts at defending Cartesian dualism were thwarted easily.

"The mind and the body can be considered distinct, separate entities that exist independently of one another," I said at some point, "It's possible for a person to possess a body but not consciousness, such as when they enter a vegetative state."

His reply came so quickly that it seemed he'd come up with an answer several minutes ago, "If that's the case, then the mind and the body are not independent of one another. Damage to the body or physical brain can cause the "mind" to cease functioning, suggesting that they are not as separate as you say."

I was trying to come up with a counter when I realized that it was still the middle of the day and eyed a clock on the wall before hurriedly gathering my books. "I'm sorry," I told him, "I have class soon. We can consider that your win." He still made no indication that he'd enjoyed the exchange. "Thank you for indulging me."

"Would you care to try again some time?" His expression was still unreadable. "I enjoyed that."

"Oh." I smiled. "Of course. Let's do this again sometime."

Despite his habit of staring unblinkingly, I decided that Hideki wasn't so bad. He and Light had a bit in common, it seemed, both possessing interest and skill in philosophy-and tennis, if a few days prior was any indication. They also debated in a similar fashion, and that led me to wonder if I would come to understand him better the more we spoke, which we continued to do in the following weeks. I thought that together, Light, Hideki and I, had the potential to become good friends.

* * *

This notion of friendship with Hideki, I came to understand, was not one that Light was fond of. Before I had a chance to even mention it, Light approached me as I was leaving for the day to return to my dorm. "Have you been talking with Ryuuga?" he asked first, and because of his careful tone, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond that.

"Yes?" It was apparently the wrong answer, because he frowned. "Do you dislike him?"

"It's not that," he said quickly, "I don't know him well enough to dislike him. It's just that he's a little...odd." _Odd_ was obviously not his first choice of descriptors.

"He is," I agreed, "But I think he's harmless. He's actually really interested in philosophy."

"Is that right?" Light murmured. I didn't think I was meant to confirm that. I broke the following silence by taking a step and excusing myself. "Just be careful around him," he said as I walked away.

* * *

I gave some thought to whether or not I should allow Light to tell me who I could and could not associate with. On one hand, I valued his friendship and trusted his judgment, but on the other, my own judgment wasn't so poor that I couldn't make good decisions on my own. While Hideki had initially made me nervous, speaking with him had told me that he was just as socially awkward as I was, though he wasn't nearly so self-conscious about it. The more I thought about it, the less certain I became, and I eventually chose a different study room as a compromise. Perhaps I would just avoid Hideki for a few days.

Of course, that didn't work as planned, and I jumped when the door was opened and Hideki hesitated in the doorway, looking a bit surprised to see me there. I couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed me through the glass walls of the room or the "reserved" sign on the door, nor could I gauge his expression for whether or not his surprise was genuine, though with the rest of his quirks, I figured it was possible that it really was a coincidence.

As usual, he was the first to speak. "You weren't at your usual spot."

"No. I thought I could use a change of scenery." It was one of the poorer lies I'd made, considering all of the study rooms looked identical.

"Perhaps." He shut the door behind him and came forward, though didn't sit down, choosing instead to stand next to me, slightly hunched over with his hands in his pockets. "Or perhaps Yagami asked you not to associate with me?"

I pushed too hard on my pencil and the lead snapped. While I didn't want to tell another bad lie, it would have been rude to admit the truth, though my hesitation clearly told him everything he needed to know. "I'm not mad," he continued, "if that's indeed the case. It's possible he's jealous."

"Jealous?" I repeated, laughing, "No, our relationship isn't like that. We're just friends, like I said."

"Really? Many of our peers seem to think otherwise."

I frowned. "Do you like to gossip, Ryuuga?"

"No, but it's difficult not to overhear it."

That, I could not disagree with. He decided to sit down at last and went to the other end of the table to pull out the chair and curl up onto it. "Are you interested in becoming romantically involved with Yagami?"

I watched him uneasily. "I'd rather not answer that question."

"My intention is not to be invasive," Hideki said, though I wondered how someone could ask such a question and not be invasive, "Rather, I'm asking after Yagami more than I'm asking after you."

I tried to understand where he was coming from but couldn't think of much. "What do you mean? Are you trying to ask me what kind of person Light is?"

There was a pause. "I might be."

"So why didn't you just ask me that to begin with?"

"Because I'd like an honest answer."

I blinked. "And you don't think being straightforward solicits an honest answer?"

"Not necessarily. Under some circumstances, indirectness yield much more honest responses."

I still didn't answer. "Are you asking Light stuff like this, too? That might be why he's so wary of you."

"If I were," he said vaguely, "He wouldn't be nearly as easy to get a rise out of as you are."

I wanted to be offended, but Hideki was smiling just a little, and I knew it was true, so I laughed instead. And so, despite Light's warning, I decided I would become Hideki's friend.

The repercussions would not become apparent until much later.


	7. Qualia

April passed seemingly in the blink of an eye. Classes continued, my old cram school contacted me with a possible job, and Hideki reignited my passion for philosophy as Light became increasingly busy with something that he didn't feel comfortable divulging. Though Hideki remained largely unreadable, he confessed that he did enjoy our discussions, and I found him occupying my thoughts more frequently. What sort of thing would we debate next time, I wondered, and how could I catch him off guard? It was the sort of playful thinking that I'd had in high school towards the beginning of my arrangement with Light, and it went hand-in-hand with my increased comfort when I was around him. Hideki and I were friends. Or at least, I considered him to be my friend. As closed-off as Light was, I could still read him much better than I could Hideki, who was always conscious of what he did and said.

And then suddenly, at the end of the month, Light returned.

I noticed him at the door to the study room and Hideki followed my gaze and excused himself. He and Light exchanged glances as they passed each other at the door, not quite glares but in no way neutral, before Light came in and shut the door behind him. "You and Hideki seem to be getting along well," he said, pulling out the chair across from me to sit down. Though there was no edge to his voice, there was something else. My crush on Light had waned in the previous weeks, in part from his sudden withdrawal without any explanation and his disdain of Hideki for no discernible reason, and so my response came out much more harshly than it would have months ago.

"I don't think it should matter to you who I choose to associate with."

"Well, it does matter," Light insisted. The tension in the air was practically tangible.

"I don't want to argue," I said, softer this time, "And I don't want to lose you as a friend, Light. Why do you dislike Hideki so much?"

"I can't talk about it."

"There are a lot of things you can't talk about lately."

"Yes, there are." Light took a deep breath. "We're friends, right?"

"Of course."

"And you trust me?"

I paused. "Yes, Light, I trust you."

"Then you have to trust me when I say that this is something I can't talk about."

* * *

Light and I started to avoid each other. When one of us came into the room, the other would leave, and we didn't make eye contact, speaking only when necessary and giving one-word answers. It seemed childish, and I'm sure he was just as frustrated as I was, but neither of us were willing to budge. Hideki was in the middle, and I felt terrible for putting him there, as Light had clearly made it known that he didn't like us talking. For weeks, we behaved like children, and Hideki continued to meet with me between classes, his presence comforting despite my guilt.

From the other end of the study commons, I watched as Light was approached by a female classmate and tried to ignore how it stung. Hideki sat to my right, waiting patiently for me to return my attention to the debate. "You look like you've been dumped." I turned to him, wide-eyed in embarrassment, and stammered out that he knew that wasn't the case. "I'm not saying that's what happened," he said, sounding uninterested, "I'm saying that's what it looks like." I apologized for getting distracted, but he shrugged. "No, I think this sort of reaction is normal for someone in your position. Do you ever think that you and I should stop associating?"

"No. He doesn't have any right to tell me who I can and can't be friends with."

Hideki didn't comment on that. "You're both stubborn," he said, "But unlike you, Light is a sore loser. It's likely that he'll try to make this as painless as possible until you cave in, but it's also likely that he will do everything in his power to facilitate your surrender sooner, possibly by-!"

"Can we please get back to the debate?" I snapped. What I did dislike about Hideki was his penchant for psycho-analyzing everyone around him-he said it was another hobby-and how accurate he tended to be. He allowed himself a small smile. He always seemed to enjoy completely honest, emotional responses from me, regardless of how much I disliked them.

"Of course."

Our first debate on the mind body problem had opened a can of worms and we had exhaustively dissected every solution we could think of, beginning with my lackluster defense of substance dualism. This time, Hideki was defending eliminative materialism, a stance that considered all mental states and emotions-love, happiness, pain, belief, and so on-to be nothing more than "folk psychology," outdated ways to refer to what would one day prove to be nothing more than brain processes. Of the various solutions to the mind body problem, eliminativism was one of the more radical. While identity theory posited that our feelings could perhaps run parallel to brain processes, and behaviorism treated them as tendencies, eliminativsm said that emotions should be completely discarded.

"Folk psychology is akin to old superstitions from bygone ages," Hideki said, "It's not so different from folk biology, or folk cosmology. For centuries, it was widely accepted that the earth was at the center of the universe and that everything revolved around it. There is a history of mistakes and revisions in science, and to think that we were correct the first time in terms of neuroscience is baffling."

"But to completely dismiss all emotion as nothing more than "folk psychology" seems a tad drastic," I argued, "Especially since they're such private things. Behaviorism assumes that mental states, such as hunger, are tendencies expressed through behavior, but this isn't always true. If someone is dieting, they may very well not eat even when presented with food, despite being hungry. There are feelings that are not expressed through behavior and are only known to the person feeling them. Even if you say that I don't feel, I know I do."

"Just as one may have "known" a witch to be guilty based on spectral evidence," Hideki countered, "Preserving something as scientific fact based on intuition alone is unthinkable. Though we may not currently have the technology to pinpoint the exact location of each and every feeling, I don't doubt that in the future, we will, and we will change the way we refer to them accordingly."

"So one day, I'll come into class with a headache, but instead of saying my head hurts, I'll tell you my C-fibers are firing, and you'll know exactly what I'm talking about?"

"Exactly."

"Hideki, that's ridiculous."

"Mere assertion is not an acceptable counterargument."

I saw a girl approach Light and sit nearby, and they traded a few words. Light laughed and they continued talking, both looking very animated. "I think," I said, no longer looking at Hideki, "That eliminativism is too critical of so-called "folk psychology" and doesn't give it enough credit for its successes. Maybe we are wrong. In fact, we probably are. But I don't see any reason to completely discard our current understanding of emotions and the way we talk about them. If I tell you that I'm in pain, you know what I mean. There are some emotions that are complex, not fitting within the context of behaviorism, and for these, the only way to express ourselves is to use the word. If revision is in order, then fine, but I think that folk psychology still exists and is so widely in use because it's onto something."

Hideki studied my expression, not needing to look where I was looking to know what I was so fixated on. "I will concede that," he said, "There are some rather complex mental states. It would be difficult to fully express yourself if you couldn't describe your emotions as, say, longing."

Light looked happy. My chest felt tight. "Longing," I repeated, "When you put it that way, it's almost embarrassing."

"But is it accurate?"

"Longing" isn't a word I'd ever applied to myself, or an emotion I thought I was at all familiar with, but seeing Light smiling and talking and so far away made me think. "No more than C-fibers firing," I told Hideki with a bitter smile.

* * *

One of my former cram school teachers had gotten in touch with a family in the area who were looking for in-home tutoring for their teenage daughter, and I'd agreed to start in May. A conspicuous envelope had come in the mail with money for that month's rent, and I knew that I should do something nice for Mother's Day. As strained as our relationship had been, my mother and I had come to an understanding after my enrollment to To-Oh, and we talked infrequently. Our time apart had given me the chance to reflect on her good points and every letter I got in the mail reminded me that though she was all I had, I was all that she had, as well.

The plan was to treat her to lunch somewhere and maybe give her flower or something. I wasn't really sure-when I lived at home, we celebrated by me wishing her a happy Mother's Day in the morning, and then she would disappear downtown for the rest of the night. I figured changing things up with a formal meal wouldn't hurt either of us, and wrote to tell her that I wanted to spend time with her.

I spent the train ride to my old cram school trying to think of restaurants. It would look bad if we went somewhere cheap, but I didn't exactly have a lot of money at the time. Something simple, maybe a cafe, I thought, along with, this shouldn't be so difficult.

I arrived towards the beginning of a class session, and my former teacher warmly welcomed me and introduced me to the class, making sure to mention that I had been the second-highest ranking student. I smiled cordially, wanting to tell them that it didn't really matter, but said nothing. He stepped out into the hall to give me a paper with the family's address and contact information and wished me luck, and I thanked him for his help, starting to leave when I noticed that the address was familiar.

It was Light's home address.

* * *

"It's good to see you again," Sachiko said as I took my shoes off in the entryway, "How have you been?"

"Fine," I said, putting on my best smile. Something was off-her own smile was nervous. I awkwardly excused myself upstairs.

Sayu could not be more different from her brother.

Her room was cluttered with casual clothing and magazines, and she had a poster of Hideki Ryuga-the singer, of course, rather than the eccentric student Light had an irrational and baseless grudge against-over her bed. "Sorry it's a mess," she said sheepishly, shoving a sweater under the bed and going to her desk.

"It's not so bad," I told her, taking a seat next to her. "What do you need help with?"

"English. I'm not doing very well." I opened her textbook and saw her staring at me out of the corner of her eye. "Um...do you mind if I ask you something kind of personal?"

I stopped turning pages. "That depends on the question, I guess."

"Okay." She hesitated. "Why did you and Light break up?"

I pretended to be interested in her textbook. "Break up?" I repeated distractedly, trying to come up with a better answer.

"He said you weren't actually dating," she continued, "But I don't believe him. You actually broke up, right?"

His mother's awkward behavior suddenly made sense. But I couldn't figure out why he'd chosen then to tell the truth. It was possible that they'd asked if I would tutor Sayu for free as a family friend, and he'd taken the opportunity to correct them, though it seemed more likely that this a passive-aggressive way of putting more distance between us. We weren't pretending to be a couple anymore. I couldn't help but wonder if this meant that he'd also slammed the door in my face in regards to dating in the future. He hadn't asked again if I was interested, and perhaps this meant that he wouldn't be asking.

"Did you?" Sayu prodded, and I shook my head.

"No, your brother's right. We're just friends."

She looked very skeptical, but when I asked her to show me what she was working on in class, she didn't ask again.

Sayu worked hard and caught onto concepts quickly, much like Light did. I was needed mostly to help solidify concepts that she was having trouble with, and didn't actually teach much. "You're doing very well," I told her, and she shrugged.

"I have to," she said, "I have to be at least close to as good as my brother, otherwise Mom'll be disappointed."

I hadn't thought about it before, but being Light's sibling must have been difficult. Sachiko probably expected nothing less than perfection from her, after her first child had been at the top of the rankings, and it made me wince to think that so much pressure was put on her. When I had been in high school, that kind of thinking had made me isolated and unhappy. Sayu had gone the other way; she had been the one to say "yes" to her friend's invitations out, and her grades had suffered for it. On the other hand, I didn't see her turning into the socially-awkward recluse that I was.

"There should be a balance," I told her, "Between having fun and working hard. You just have to find it."

"You think so?" She sounded glad to hear it.


End file.
